In the BAU
by Loads of Randomness
Summary: "Coming together is a beginning. Keeping together is progress. Working together is success." -Henry Ford. Based off /u/DeejayMil's April 2017 pint sized prompts on Reddit. A series of unrelated drabbles that I may or may not expand on what the BAU team gets up to. Each drabble is individually rated.
1. Beginning

**#Snapshot Saturday – Beginning – image prompt https: originals/0c/67/b3/ | Rating: K+ | Genre: None**

Her dark eyes watched the traffic surrounding her as she was on her way to work. Her first day of work. New job, new place, new home. Just like when she was growing up. Nothing that was new to her yet everything was new to her.

"It's a new start." She told herself. "A new part of the journey."

Thinking of all the moves as just another train stop on her journey had always helped her. Sometimes it whizzed along the tracks, the scenes out the windows a blur, others she waited too long at stops (Italy was one of those) and sometimes she could sit back and enjoy watching the scenery go by. Every now and then she'd had to change trains, realising she was on the wrong track or thinking she was going to the wrong destination.

This was what this was. A change of trains, a different journey, a new beginning.

When the heck had she turned into a sob-story author?

A horn honked indignantly behind her, startling herself out of her thoughts. The light was green. Oops, she bit her lip. Time to continue her journey.

Her lips curved into a grin. Or start a new one.

Emily Prentiss was ready to take on the BAU.


	2. Oops

**#Scenic Sunday – Oops – The red pooling on the carpet could spell the beginning of the end of your character's sanity | Rating: K+ | Genre: Humour**

There was a pool of red _something_ on her carpet. Her beige carpet. JJ absentmindedly prodded the sure to stain _something_ with her foot while pondering the intelligence of her and Will's (mainly hers) decision to have such a light covered carpet when they had two rambunctious boys and apparently insane friends.

At least it wasn't blood, which was her first panicking thought when she had come across it upstairs when her downstairs had been suspiciously quiet. Thankfully her brain had overtaken her heart and she had quickly determined that it wasn't. (The fact that she could determine that so quickly was down to how many different pools of blood she had seen in her job, which was a disturbing thought).

It did look very like blood, especially to an untrained eye. Not the bright red of Henry's paint set, but a slight brownish tinge. It was also, she knelt down and curiously stuck her fingers in it, slightly sticky?

It was definitely going to stain, JJ thought dolefully.

Suddenly a realisation came to her. Up here was still far too quiet. Where were her sons and her crazy, surely just as guilty, baby sitter?

Peeking into Henry's room, she saw the evidence of a hard day of playing, a 200 piece puzzle that Spencer got him ("And only Uncle Spence can help me with" Henry stubbornly told her) lay completed on the floor with the start of a new puzzle next to it.

Speaking of Spencer…

"Henry! No don't point the hose there!" came his voice from outside. "The flowers don't need to –"

JJ darted to her son's window and smiled at the sight she saw.

There was her crazy babysitter, and best friend, Spencer Reid, trying to wrestle the hose off her oldest son while her youngest, Michael, was running around with no pants on. All three of them had curious red stains on them. Red that suspiciously matched the quickly drying pool in the hallway.

When she reached the back garden, it was worse than she thought, red footprints were everywhere on the patio, Michael and Henry sized and also Reid sized. Sighing at her best friend's oblivious childishness JJ prepared her 'Mom Face'.

"JJ, I swear I can explain," Reid said quickly, before she even opened her mouth. He had been at the receiving end of that look almost as much as her sons. JJ sometimes thought that she had perfected that look on Spencer long before her sons came along.

She gave him a look that had him gulping. Directing the same look at her ten and three year old sons, they froze and guiltily looked at her, Michael with a whispered "Uh oh".

"See, uh it started with my explanations on Halloween and potions…" he started haltingly.

Henry, seeing his godfather in trouble jumped in, "Uncle Spence said that witches and wizards were only something like the stories but they were called 'wise women' 'cause they knew lotsa stuff but didn't wear stars."

"Lotta stuff" echoed Michael.

Reid shuffled on his feet and scratched the back of his head. "But I told them that they did make potions."

JJ groaned, knowing where this tale was going.

"And you," she said, looking at Henry, "decided to _make_ one?"

Henry looked betrayed and huffed, "Not me! Michael!" pointing at his little brother.

Everyone turned to look at the youngest LaMontagne who was currently chewing on a wad of grass.

Wrestling the apparently tasty grass from her son's mouth, JJ raised her eyebrows in the universal sign for 'Really?'

Henry pouted and explained, "I wanted to but Uncle Spence said we didn't have the right in-ingrend-"

"Ingredients" corrected Reid automatically. "And you don't." he added absentmindedly. "A lot of old cures used belladonna as an ingredient and there's none that I can see…" he trailed off once he saw JJ's rather impressive glare.

"So yeah, I was explaining all this to Henry and-"

"Michael did this." JJ said flatly, knowing her youngest's tendency to cause mischief when left unsupervised, heck even _when_ supervised.

"It was only five minutes" Reid protested.

"We found him in the bathroom, Mommy" Henry continued.

"Keep tidy" Michael helpfully added

"But we musta scared him when we ran at him"

"I thought he had opened medications," Reid explained. "The cabinet had been opened."

JJ paled and grabbed at her baby.

Reid quickly reassured her, "No he didn't touch any of them. He went for some bubble bath, shaving foam and Henry's paint…"

"From my room!" Henry stated indignantly. Michael was always getting into his stuff.

"So, I assume it got spilled when you scared him?" JJ asked, suspecting where this story was going.

"Uh, yes," Spencer answered guiltily. "I grabbed him so he wouldn't run through it and dumped both of them outside so I could clean the bathroom and tried to fix the carpet…but I only managed to change it a bit more brown…"

JJ sighed and rubbed between her eyes.

"Well that explains the mess."

"Sorry" chorused three voices from her favourite boys, she couldn't help but smile.

"But what about the mess on the boys and your shoes if none of you walked through it?"

"For some reason Michael had a lot of it on his pants…"


	3. J M Barrie

**#** **Maxim Monday –** **J. M. Barrie** **–** _ **"Ghosts were created when the first man woke in the night."**_ **| Rating: K+ | Genre: Friendship**

Spencer Reid's eyes flew open only to be met by darkness. Panic fluttered across his subconscious making him fall off his hotel bed with a loud THUMP.

Reid cringed on the floor, waiting for an annoyed shout.

A light on the opposite side of the room flickered once, twice then finally on properly.

"Reid?" hissed Morgan, eyes squinting in the bright light.

Reid stayed quiet, hoping his friend would think it happened in his dreams and go back to sleep.

"Reid?" he asked again more urgently.

Sighing, Reid picked himself off the floor and into Morgan's line of sight. Of course, he wouldn't. This recent case had gotten them all on edge and Garcia's happy storytelling of the local lore of this supposedly _haunted_ hotel had not helped. Not even those who thought themselves above "fairy tales".

"I'm fine, just fell off the bed" he said, dusting invisible lint off his now crumpled pyjamas.

Morgan rolled his eyes and smirked at his best friend, a taunting comment about his height on his lips when their eyes met.

Spencer winced. Morgan could always read him far too well.

"What's up, kid?" Morgan asked while sitting up.

"Nothing."

Morgan's left eyebrow rose. Reid swore both JJ and Morgan perfected that look just for him.

And, as usual, forty-three seconds of it made him cave.

He busied himself pulling the duvet around him and muttered "It was dark."

Morgan blinked twice, stood up and crossed the room. With a gentle 'flick' The light on Reid's bedside table was on, bathing his bed in a stark glow. He felt the bed dip as Morgan settled next to him.

"That it? Or did Garcia's ghost stories freak you out?" Morgan asked gently. "They're not true, you know" he finished slightly teasingly.

Reid couldn't help but grin back.

"Oh, I know that. In fact, did you know that these types of stories are extremely cliché, not even that interesting when you think about them. Ghost stories first originated…"

Morgan rolled his eyes in affection and settled next to Reid, the kid was not going to shut up any time soon. But they had time, and Reid would actually have a peaceful slumber…

Hotch found them lying side by side with Morgan's arm draped defensively across Reid's long body later that morning.


	4. Bewildered

**#** **Tonal Tuesday –** **Bewildered** **– The tone is dizzyingly disconcerted, positively perplexed, absolutely astonished! What could have possibly happened?** **| Rating: K+ | Genre: Hurt/Comfort.**

He saw white first. Well, actually second if you count the darkness behind what he assumed were his eyelids. He was pretty sure that someone had told him that black was actually the absence of light and not actually a colour, but who-did the white just move.

The white flickered blue, then black, then back to white again.

"-he alright? His eyes are open-"

"-trauma to head-"

Pink dots filled his vision. He tried to shake his head but something stopped him. Or did it? He didn't know

Where was he? Panic filled him and he thrashed what he assumed was _his_ body but he didn't think anything happened. Everything felt heavy. He felt something, someone? Push him back down. He was up?

He could feel warm air on his face. There were noises. Was someone talking to him?

"-should have woken up so soon-"

"-more rest-"

He heard a woman's voice. There was something familiar about it…

Something on him hurt, or was it all of him?

His thoughts jumbled together. Couldn't think straight, couldn't remember.

Was that a bang? A gun?

He felt something flow over him. His thoughts wavered. A tap dancing bear greeted his astonished eyes and informed him in yet another familiar voice that "It was time to play, daddy".

Nothing made sense. He must be dreaming…He had to wake up.

Scrunching up his face, he forcibly opened his eyes (he didn't know they were closed?).

"Hi, Will", his girlfriend's tearstained face filled his vision.

"JJ." He struggled to sit up.

She looked at him with a watery grin as if he was about to break. A pain shot through his chest. Will winced. Oh yeah, the bank.


	5. Halcyon

**#** **Wordsmith Wednesday - Halcyon –** _ **"Denoting a period of time in the past that was idyllically happy and peaceful"**_ __ **| Rating: K | Genre: Family**

Hotch smiled as he brought a glass of wine to his lips. His wife grinned a him from across the table as she dabbed their son's face. Jack had thought that it was appropriate to wear most of his dinner instead of eating it.

The eighteen-month old's hand swiped through Haley's hair, giving her a fetching streak of tomato pasta sauce. Hotch snorted as she crossed her eyes and tapped Jack on the nose while sending an actual glare at him.

He decided that no other comment was needed and busied himself with serving the both more garlic bread, not looking at her for fear of laughing again. Music played softly in the background (The cd that Haley had bought when she was pregnant if he remembered correctly).

Haley sighed as she tried to brush most of the mess out and Hotch reached for his son.

"I'll get this off him, you finish dinner" he said lifting his squirmy son.

His wife smiled gratefully at him and she finished off her cooling dinner as Hotch went upstairs to fill the bath. Thankfully Jack had no aversion to water and was endlessly fascinated by bubbles.

"You're a bit messy" Hotch commented, putting Jack in the bath

Jack looked at him with big eyes and a bigger grin.

"Yum!" he declared.

Hotch smiled softly as he began to gently wash the pasta of Jack's head, not noticing that Haley had followed and was looking at them both with affection.

This is what evenings were for.


	6. The One Bed Conundrum

**#** **Typecast Thursday –** **The One Bed Conundrum** **–** _ **GASP, there's only one bed. Uncliche the most cliché of all fanfiction premises**_ **| Rating: K | Genre: Humour**

"I am not sleeping on _that_." announced Emily, glaring at the bed, the only bed in the room.

JJ nodded mutely in response.

The team's sleeping accommodations had not gone to plan. There was a big event in this tiny backwater town apparently and all the better (not that any of the hotels were great) hotels had been booked out for months.

Which unfortunately left the team in an extremely grotty motel that had made Emily loudly comment that "there was less work for us because our unsub is probably living here". Unfortunately, that had gotten her a Level Three Hotch Glare, not that any of them disagreed with her. They had all had to double up, which was nothing, they had done it before. But each room only had one double bed.

With much groaning they had all readied themselves to an uncomfortable night (Reid was a light sleeper, while Morgan liked to hog the bed and Emily always ending up wrapped in the bed covers while apparently JJ talked in her sleep, no one dared ask what Rossi and Hotch did in their sleep).

Emily and JJ had dragged themselves to their assigned room, Emily limping from an unfortunate tumble during her chase after a spooked suspect and JJ nursing a pounding headache from having to deal with the local, extremely stubborn, media. Only for them to be met with the most broken down sorry looking bed they had ever seen.

There was a crack along the headboard, which was also suspiciously stained. JJ could count at least four springs raising the covers and one side of the bed was sloped at a strange angle. On inspection of the legs, Emily discover that one of them had been sawed off and two of the remaining had blocks of wood under them.

It looked like even sitting on it would cause an injury.

"I'm not breathing near that," stated Emily with a very Elizabeth-like (not that JJ would tell her) glare.

"Me neither" JJ agreeing with Emily's statement, tugging her friend back as she poked some folded blankets at the end of the bed, "What are you doing?"

"Checking for living creatures," Emily replied in all seriousness.

JJ snorted.

"They appear to be safe" she announced after further prodding.

"And cleaner that the bed covers," added JJ.

Emily nodded thoughtfully and looked around the room. Suddenly she grinned. JJ looked suspiciously at her.

"I want no part of whatever your thinking of."

"Then you'll have nowhere to sleep."

JJ sighed, thinking anything had to be better than that death trap of a bed. "What, then?"

Emily gave her naturally blonde friend a cat like smirk.

"Want to make a fort?"


	7. Reversal

**#** **Fiendish Friday –** **Reversal** **–** _ **Tell a tale backwards, from end to the beginning**_ __ **| Rating: T | Genre: Family/Hurt/Comfort**

I remember the bang, then silence and a lot of sadness. Mom was gone and I didn't understand what was going on and, heck, I still don't understand what happened.

Dad told me to "be on the case" so I was "on the case". I was being Dad. I liked being Dad.

They said I kissed her and said I loved her. I wish I remember that. Aunt Pen said she could get me the phone record but I don't think I could listen yet.

This guy came in our house. He was meant to be one of the guys protecting us from the bad guys. He was nice, a bit weird.

I didn't like being in a house without dad, I was getting used to it but I still didn't like it. It was ok when the other men, agents, were there but they couldn't play like dad did when he was at home. They were still "on the job" not like when dad was at home.

Not that our home was dad's home anymore, we left. Mom said Dad had different priorities than her whatever that meant. It made her angry when I asked so I stopped asking and then we left.

Dad was never home a lot, see. He was trying to stop the bad guys but it made Mom sad and shouty. I understood, still made me sad but only the best people could stop bad guys and my Dad is the best.

That used to make Mom smile and give Dad sloppy kisses when he came home. Then I'd run to him and he'd swing me around until I got dizzy and then he hugged be tight. Sometimes too tight when he looked sad but Dad always said "I love you" and that made everything ok. Kind of like a fairy-tale, though I'm too big for them now, didn't you know?

They said Mom and Dad's story was like a fairy-tale, friends, then they got married young and had me, Jonathan Hotchner though no one calls me that.

Happy Birthday, Mom

 _Haley Brooks-Hotchner_

 _July 16, 1974 – November 25, 2009_

 _Beloved Wife, Mother and Daughter_

 _Rest in Peace_


	8. What?

**#** **Snapshot Saturday –** **What? - . /-LvuvQ2KlpYw /Ubg53wG27BI /AAAAAAAAXis /8AEylwQH6ug /s1600 /Free+High+Definition+** **| Rating: K+ | Genre: Humour**

"Um, Garcia?" Kate Callahan, newest member of the BAU asked their resident tech genius.

"Yes?" answered the brightly coloured woman.

"What is _that_?" Kate asked

 _That_ was an absolutely _terrifying_ image of a particularly large tiger diving into water, a fierce look on it's face, lips pulled back to reveal its deadly teeth. It was definitely not the usual animals she was used to seeing on Garcia's screen.

Garcia just smiled predatorily at her, which was definitely out of place on her normally cheerful face.

Before Kate could question this further two pairs of hands grabbed her and pulled her back out of the brightly coloured lair. Tampering down her usual reaction to being grabbed from behind, Kate spun around to be faced with unusually solemn faced Morgan and Reid.

"What the-?"

"Shhh" Reid said, his eyes darting between her and Garcia's door.

"C'mere" said Morgan, gesturing down the hall.

Knowing she probably wouldn't get answers otherwise Kate followed the two highly trained agents who both looked amused and vindicated all at once.

Back at the bullpen Kate demanded of them "Ok, what is going on? Why is Garcia suddenly looking up terrifying animal photos instead of her usual puppy ones?"

Smirking slightly Morgan stated, "This is normal for my blonde Goddess"

Well, that explained absolutely nothing.

Noticing she was getting frustrated Reid further explained, "It's because Morgan and JJ got captured last week. She's still processing that."

"Huh?" was Kate's intelligent reply.

"See, Callahan, every time something dramatic happens to one of us because of an unsub, Garcia goes all protective mama bear" Morgan further explained. "But because she literally doesn't have a bad bone in her body and wouldn't curse the guy out or want to cause harm she looks at increasingly terrifying animals to make her feel better about it."

"This is still better than the time Emily and I nearly got killed by that cult" said Reid almost absentmindedly, already back to flicking through a book (where did that appear from, she could have sworn he didn't have that a few minutes ago?)

Morgan snorted and shook his head. "True, I don't think I've quit recovered seeing what angry honey badgers are capable of doing.

Reid pouted, "Try having an eidetic memory"

Kate sighed and rolled her eyes at their typical banter as Morgan retorted with something sarcastic. She glanced down the hall speculatively at Garcia's now closed door.

There were a hell of a lot of layers to this crazy, crazy team.


	9. Uh Oh

**#** **Scenic Sunday – Uh Oh – Your character wakes to a silent world** **| Rating: T | Genre: Humour**

Rossi woke up to silence.

He blinked, the antics of last night flooding back to him.

Fuck.

Throwing his bedclothes back and scrabbling out of bed (which he didn't remember falling asleep in), he started to rush downstairs only to remember how many people who were actually in his house. Or, more specifically, who.

He immediately abandoned his plan to rush around check on everything and started to creep carefully down the stairs.

His progress was halted only four steps down. Mainly due to the long blonde hair draped over the next three steps. He knelt down to check that the BAU's media liaison was not hurt. Thankfully, she wasn't. Though, she was hugging the railings of his banisters very tightly despite her current unconscious status.

Rossi vaguely remembered her taunting an arguing Morgan and Prentiss by lobbing olives at them. He brushed her cheek gently as he draped her hair closer to her, marvelling at the lack of tension that was normally seen when dealing with the media.

He edged round her carefully and continued down the stairs. Surprise, surprise, the next of his team he came across was none other than Prentiss and Morgan. They had entangled themselves in each other, hugging close, Emily's head on Morgan's chest and his arm draped protectively over her while he snored, breaking the silence.

Snorting at his two favourite idiots, Rossi continued to pad softly into his kitchen. Coffee will help.

Thankfully all is normal and peaceful in the kitchen, his coffee machine making too much noise in it. He hopes it doesn't wake anyone up, not prepared for the relative peace to break quite yet.

Curiosity gets to him, wondering where his final two team members are, before he finishes his damn coffee. Sighing heavily, he pushes his wondrous caffeinated mixture aside and goes agent hunting.

He sees Aaron next, sitting stiffly upright in an armchair not even completely relaxed in his sleep. Rossi couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he would poke the team lead… One look at Aaron's, for once peaceful, face make him ignore that train of thought and to continue hunting for their resident genius. The one member of his team that Rossi was terrified to leave unsupervised. Who knows what injuries the kid could give himself when passed out?

A frantic fifteen minutes later and Rossi thankfully found the kid wrapped around a stack of books in his library and an empty beer bottle tipped over (thankfully empty). Twitchy and hyper alert even in his sleep Reid wakes to Rossi's heavy footsteps.

"Bwah?" was his intelligent mumble, childishly rubbing sleep from his eyes with both fists.

"Coffee that-a-way" Rossi points in the direction of the kitchen and Reid obediently follows, only stumbling a bit.

Sighing heavily at the loss of peace for the next few hours, Rossi follows to prepare breakfast. Only he was too slow to stop –

CRASH

Rossi darted out the door to see Reid on top of Morgan and Prentiss with Morgan swearing and Prentiss issuing threats in at least three different languages, none of them English. He really hoped the kid didn't know Italian…

Prentiss managed to untangle herself and was advancing on the _still_ half-asleep kid.

Uh oh.


	10. E M Forster

**#** **Maxim Monday – E. M. Forster – I swear from the bottom of my heart I want to be healed. I want to be like other men, not this outcast whom nobody wants** __ **| Rating: T | Genre: Hurt/Comfort**

At three, Spencer hated the loud noise of other toddlers, the way they threw things and screeched. Why did they like it so much? How come they didn't like to read encyclopaedias? They didn't like it that he didn't let them pull their sticky hands at the pictures. Why would he want to be like them?

At seven, he tried so hard to play with the children on his street. He understood that a healthy body meant a healthy mind and not to speak of the number of studies on the importance of play. But he wasn't any good. He couldn't hit a baseball and he tripped over his own feet. He only seemed to be able to run quick when other kids were chasing him. Why couldn't he play with them?

At twelve, he had started to hate his brain. It was the reason he got picked on. Spencer was used to kids ignoring him, not picking on him. Until high school. The jocks really didn't like that he showed them up every class (not that it was hard to do that). It hurt and he was sad. His mu didn't know, couldn't know. Why did he think that his dad was right?

At eighteen, Spencer was still a freak. A nobody upstart weirdo. He was supposedly surrounded by his peers when doing his third PhD but people _still_ avoided him and sneered at him. Spencer knew he was socially awkward and tried so hard to get social interactions right. He was doing something wrong, he just couldn't figure it out. Why couldn't he do this?

How could he fix himself?


	11. Dreamy

**#** **Tonal Tuesday – Dreamy – The tone is pensive, introspective, possibly quixotic. Why are we wistfully wondering?** __ **| Rating: K | Genre: Family**

Aaron Hotchner was looking at photo of him and Haley. It was summer and they were young. She had just graduated college (fifth in her class) and he had got accepted into law school. His face was free of frown lines and hers had no shadow of worry. Those would all come in time.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Hotch could almost fool himself into thinking that he could smell the paint of Haley's parents freshly painted kitchen and her mother's warm apple pie. It was the smell of happiness and hopeful futures.

Smiling wistfully, he returned the photo to its box. It was just a battered shoebox, something he shoved to the back of his wardrobe, only to be pulled out when Hotch was feeling reminiscent. It held memories of the early years of him and Haley. Summer day beach photos, movie ticket stubs, even a mask from a "ball" their high school had, the glitter covering a bit of everything.

Another photo showed Hotch, no, Aaron, he would be Hotch for at least another decade, and his best-man-to-be in their sophomore year of high school. He had introduced Haley to him.

And this one showed Haley curled up in his arms at a bonfire they attended. Their faces only highlighted by flickering flames. He was laughing freely, head flung back at a joke? A story? The moment was lost to time.

There was a programme for the first (and unfortunately not the last) play Haley had dragged him to. He never did enjoy them but he had never let Haley know that. She had loved them so much. She had really wanted to share that love with their children. _Children._

Resolutely Hotch closed the shoebox. Jack would like to hear these stories, he decided. They would be good for bedtime the next few weeks.


	12. Idiosyncratic

**#** **Wordsmith Wednesday – "Idiosyncratic" – Pertaining to the nature of idiosyncrasy, or something peculiar to an individual** **| Rating: K | Genre: Family**

Henry William LaMontagne was sulking. No, he wasn't. He was mad! He kicked the top of his mother's desk, _hard._ Pain shot up through is foot and tears welled in his eyes. Everything was going wrong today.

"Aw, pumpkin, what's wrong?" That was his fairy godmother, Auntie Pen.

He rushed over to hug her legs. She ruffled his hair, it made him feel a bit better.

"What's up?" she repeated, lifting him onto her hip.

Henry shook his head and played with her sleeve. She was wearing a glittery cardigan today, they were pretty.

"Are you a mime?" she teased, tapping the top of his nose.

He couldn't help it, he giggled the pouted again.

"I'm in trouble,"

"Who's in trouble?"

That was Uncle Spence! Henry grinned at his favourite person and reached for him.

"I see how it is," said Auntie Pen with a silly face. "You like him better!"

"Of course!" said Uncle Spence, spinning Henry around. Wow he was high up, up here! "I'm brilliant."

Henry giggled at their antics. No one could stay angry with these two around.

"So, you're in trouble?" Spencer asked.

Henry nodded, pulling a face.

"Well, that explains JJ's mood," Uncle Spencer says to Auntie Pen, who nods.

"She's talking to Hotch," Garcia replies. "What happened, sweet pea?" she asks looking at him.

Henry squirms and buried his face into Uncle Spencer.

"Ihidabu"

"What? Try again buddy," said Uncle Spencer.

Henry took a deep breath. "I hit a boy."

His godparents gave him a surprised look so he ploughed on to explain, "He said me counting steps was weird and I said it wasn't 'cause I always do it but then he was being mean an' I got mad an' then- "

"Woah, woah," Uncle Spencer interrupted, looking alarmed.

Henry bit his lip and looked up at him.

"Someone was making fun of you?" he asked gently. Henry nodded.

"Oh my poor godson, how dare someone-" Auntie Pen began but Uncle Spence stopped her.

"He said I was weird. And stupid."

A flash of something went across Uncle Spence's face but he smiled in understanding.

"It's ok, Henry. He just doesn't understand you."

"But counting steps _is_ weird."

Uncle Spence shrugged. "So? Everyone has _something_ that is a bit odd to everyone else."

The blond boy brightened up, "Really?"

Uncle Spence nodded, "Yep, for example, Garcia likes very bright colours."

He elbowed the woman in question who grinned at him before replying herself, "And Spencer knows _everything_ "

"Not _everything_ " but Henry and Auntie Pen hushed him, he did know everything.

"And mama really really likes Cheetos!" added Henry gleefully, "and daddy likes to hum bad music that makes mama pull funny faces."

"See? We all have our idiosyncrasies," stated Uncle Spencer with a smile.

Henry looked at him, confused.

"Things that make us special," he amended.

That made Henry feel very happy.

"I guess we do," came a voice from the door.

All three of them turned around. It was mama! She was smiling at them, which meant she wasn't mad. Henry jumped off the desk to run to her, apologising. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. Oh, this was _nice._

"Thank you," Henry heard her say to his godparents.


	13. Aaaaaaaaa

**#** **Fiendish Friday – Aaaaaaaaa – No As about it: Today you cannot use the letter A** **| Rating: K+ | Genre: Humour**

Emily sighed, feeling her strength slip away. She slid her body down the door so she rested on the balls of her feet, crouching. She closed her eyes, her body going limp -

"Emily, get over yourself" JJ scoffed from over her.

She picked herself up, pouting ridiculously.

"We're out of coffee"

Hotch's left eyebrow shot up.

"I know" he replied. "I expected this sort of performance from Reid."

JJ looked to their boss, nervously. "Do you reckon Reid doesn't know yet?" She really hoped he didn't...

A mournful noise echoed from the kitchen.

Hotch looked grim.

"He does now."


	14. Wicked

**#** **Typecast Thursday – Wicked – She's a witch, but maybe not so wicked. Turn this tale as old as time into something a little fresher.** **| Rating: K | Genre: Humour**

Magic AU

Emily blinked at one of her new colleagues. She was, um, very _bright_. The alleged witch smiled and squealed at her.

"Oh, another fae!" she said, hugging her. Emily tried to not tense too much.

Garcia, pushed Emily Prentiss back to get a good look of her. Emily wasn't entirely sure _why_ she was allowing herself to be manhandled but she went with it. She blamed it on the fact that she was stunned by the _incredibly_ bright witch, who was wearing, on closer inspection, glitter?

"Um, yes," Emily replied uncomfortably, she wasn't exactly your stereotypical fae...

"Reid will be so pleased" the witch babbled on obliviously, brushing against Emily's wings slightly making her jump back slightly.

"Easy, momma," said Derek, the _very_ buff elf she met earlier. "Let her catch her bearings before you go all witch-y on her."

So, Garcia _was_ a witch. Huh. Well, you'd think she'd know not to go off appearances. Though the woman wasn't really giving off a witch vibe. Witch magic normally put a fae on edge as it clashed with theirs. Something to do with how their bodies regulated it and how fae were formed. Something like that. Hell, she herself was probably mistaken for a witch more than Garcia was correctly identified.

The colourful woman pouted, "I need to reweave the protection charm on the team now."

Why on earth would a witch include a fae in a group protection charm? Did that even work?

This team was getting odder by he second and she had only met three of them, if you counted Hotch's confusion and abrupt dismissal as an introduction.

"You know that she'll have to get settled before your magic can coexist with hers," Morgan argued.

Garcia sighed heavily. "I don't like this."

"Sorry?" said Emily, getting the impression it was your fault. Morgan shook his head.

What had she gotten herself in for?


	15. Drive

**#** **Snapshot Saturday – Drive –** **| Rating: T | Genre: Humour**

"What. The. Fuck."

"Oh, hell yes!"

Hotch heard both exclamations simultaneously over the crackly phone in the Sheriff's office of the tiny town his team were currently occupying (much to the disgust of the locals)

"Prentiss, swap seats."

"Not a chance, Morgan. This is just _fantastic_ "

"Which is exactly why I want you to _swap seats with me so I am driving_ "

"Oh no, I won my position fair and square!"

(Actually she had won the car keys by elbowing Morgan sharply in the ribs and raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at Reid, but Hotch thought that that was beside the point)

That was _before_ I saw this road!"

"You don't say!"

"Shut it, princess. I am not going through what happened the last time in Jersey City."

"Weehawken." Interjected Reid's voice.

"What was that, kid?"

"It was Weehawken not Jersey city where Emily nearly upended the car on all those hairpins. You got the state correct but Weehawken-"

"That was fantastic" interrupted Prentiss with audible glee as she remembered.

Hotch winced, he had been in the car then with Morgan and Prentiss. His stomach lurched just thinking of that incident. There were an awful lot of angry locals…

"It was NOT"

"You, Morgan, are such a wuss."

"Yes, because the car going on TWO OF ITS WHEELS is no cause for concern!"

"I don't think the car actually did that, it's more difficult to maintain the balance-"

"NOT my point, Reid"

"But you weren't recalling it correctly-"

"I had total control of the car in that situation."

"It doesn't matter and no you didn't, I had to pull the brake just to straighten you!" Morgan retorted to both of his "respected" colleagues

"We lived AND caught the unsub before he drugged that woman-"

"Please," pleaded Hotch, unable to stand any of them anymore, "don't injure anyone, Emily."

"Don't you trust me, Hotch?"

Ignoring her, "Morgan, don't murder of mutilate either of them"

Morgan huffed and threw himself back in his seat if the thumped he heard was anything to go by.

"And, Reid." Hotch could almost see his youngest agent's head perk up. "Just, just stay outside of their arm's length."

"Can't talk right now, Hotch" said Emily brightly. "Got to drive!"

Hotch heard a government issued car rev and a moan from Morgan and particularly pathetic whimper from Reid before the phone was hung up.

He just blinked at the phone, dreading the complaints that he _knew_ would be reported within the next hour. JJ will not be amused.


	16. Egg Hunt

**#** **Scenic Sunday – Egg hunt – your character falls and finds more than chocolate when they land. They probably shouldn't have found it. They don't really regret finding it.** **| Rating: K | Genre: Family**

Emily Prentiss was _bored_. She stomped her foot hard against the ground. Mud splashed up her previously spotless white tights. The mud splatters gave her a thrill of satisfaction. Mother would make a frowny face and roll her eyes. That always made Emily laugh. Mother's faces were funny.

Looking down at herself, Emily frowned. Unfortunately, she hadn't managed to get any on her stupid, froofy Easter dress. She wrinkled her nose at it. It was pale blue like the sky and had a big white bow around her waist. Emily _hated_ it. The dress and the stupid big bow planted on her head that she had "lost" within two hours. Goats ate _anything_ , you see. It itched and she wasn't allowed to scratch like she wanted to in church. Mother had muttered something about dressing a lion in sheep's clothing, whatever _that_ meant.

She was _meant_ to be finding the chocolate eggs that Mother had hid for her. Normally, Emily would have been all about the chocolate, Easter being one of the few times of year Mother didn't stop her from gorging as much chocolate as she could eat. But, today, she was _bored_. They had flown back from a stint in Turkey two weeks ago and Emily missed all her friends. She hadn't met anyone around here yet as she was starting school after Easter.

School. Emily scrunched up her nose. She had had a tutor in Turkey as it was a very short stint and she had liked it much better than being the new girl. No staring faces or lonely lunches. She decided not to think about it. It made her tummy feel funny. It was ages away, like, a week anyway.

She poked her shiny, black church shoe in the mud puddle, wondering how hard she'd have to jump to get mud up to her neck. Maybe if she ran first….

Emily quickly glanced over her shoulder, making sure no one was watching her. Still no. Mother was cooking their Easter dinner, something she prided on doing when she could. It always tasted nicer when she made it. Normally she tried to get Emily to help, putting her in a ridiculous apron, but there was always an accident with the eggs or flour to prevent that. This year it had been the sugar. Just to mix things up you see. Oh, the contents of the bag had scattered quite nicely into all the nooks and crannies.

There was the perfect grassy bank for running down. _That_ would do the trick. Emily quickly clambered up it and surveyed the area. The splendid mud was right there at the foot, bushes next to it shielding the view from whatever was on the other side. She stretched her arms out and ran with a whoop. Her hair flew back in a black banner and the tails of her bow streamed behind her. This was going to be so good, it might spray right over her head!

Suddenly, her foot caught on a rock. She tried to stop herself but that only made her skid the last few feet, a mucky streak appearing behind her. The momentum made her stumble at the bottom, the word spinning as Emily tumbled over the puddle and into the bushes.

Ouch! They were prickly! She heard something tear. Hopefully it was that bow. The branches pricked her hands causing her to cry out. It was like loads of paper cuts.

Finally, the world stopped spinning. Emily was surrounded by branches. She could only see glimpses of the sky. She tried to push some of the branches away from her face, but stopped when she grabbed onto more thorns. Who planted thorn bushes on a property anyway? Huffing slightly, she tried to turn onto her stomach. Maybe it would be better if she crawled out. Urgh. Her dress was tangled in the thorns. Great.

She gave a carefully tug. Nothing. Emily inspected the twisted cloth. It was properly tangled amongst the branches. She tried lifting it away but she only got her hands pricked away. Sucking on the bleeding area, Emily frowned in thought. There didn't seem to be anything she could do.

She looked behind her, where she thought she fell in. There was no grass or mud puddle. Only branches. Emily flopped on her back. No one would be able to rescue her, how could they when they couldn't see where she went? Who got rescued from thorn bushes anyway? She was probably going to die here.

Mother would say that she was being dramatic and somehow magically get her out of here. Emily sniffled, she wanted her mother. She rubbed at her eyes. She was _not_ crying.

Splash

What was that? It sounded like water but Emily didn't think there was a pond here. She thought she had already explored most of the grounds. She tried to push herself forward in the direction she heard the splash, her not-tears forgotten, but was stopped. Her dress. She gave her dress a hard tug and it came away mostly intact, only _some_ bits staying on the thorns. She could crawl forwards now.

Dirt stuck to her now decidedly grubby knees of her tights, more brown and green than white. What could be beyond the bushes? Pirates? Maybe they came ashore to bury treasure! Or mermaids! With pretty hair and splashing tails. Emily could see some glittering water now, all glassy with ripples coming towards her. Or maybe it was…

She broke out of the bushes, looking eagerly around. There was no ship or big rocks. Pouting in disappointment Emily started to stand up only to hear a weird fluttering noise by her feet.

Oh, baby ducks! Emily stilled, watching breathlessly.

One, two, three, four five! All tiny and yellow and fluffy. They were a bit damp, they must have come out of the water. They were waddling along in a wobbly line, making baby quaking noises. Were they all alone? Was their mommy busy too?

They were coming towards her! She could see they were all slightly different now. One had white feathers on its wings and another had a darker beak. Two looked to be twins if it wasn't for a dot under the eye of one and the final one was really really tiny. Emily reached out a hand carefully, wanting to see if their feathers were as soft as they looked. The ducklings didn't seem to take much notice of her, more interested in the ground by her feet.

She was almost touching a tiny head when a loud, angry quacking noise came from the water. Emily looked up, distracted from her task. It was a mommy duck! And she didn't look pleased! Emily snatched her hand back, only now remembering that she shouldn't touch animals that weren't pets. She edged backwards until the mommy duck stopped quacking. She huddled up her babies close to her and cocked her head at Emily.

Emily held her breath. The mommy duck stared. Finally, after _ages_ , she nudged her babies and let them waddle around freely. Emily sighed in relief. She was allowed to stay. She settled herself, her elbows propping up her head on the gravelly ground. This was _way_ better than chocolate.

And it was here where Elizabeth Prentiss found her young daughter an hour and half later, half asleep from watching the ducks playing.

"Emily!" she only half scolded, smiling exasperatedly at her daughter's typical appearance.

"Aw, you scared them, Mother!" Emily pouted as Elizabeth lifted her up.

Elizabeth looked down at the large pond. The ducks had all darted into the water at her appearance, the mother duck ducking her head under water.

"It's their dinner time," she explained, not wanted a pouting Emily on her hands. "Just like it's yours."

Emily's stomach grumbled.

"Ham?" she asked hopefully, Emily loved her mother's ham. It fell apart in her mouth and she never gave Emily the fatty bits.

Elizabeth nodded in confirmation.

"With fluffy potatoes," she added, using her daughter's name for mashed potatoes.

"Yes!" Emily cheered, jiggling in her mother's arms.

"Only after you've cleaned up," Elizabeth admonished, carrying Emily around the bush. It didn't look so big now.

"Aww. Can't I take a bath in the pond like the ducks?"

"It's not clean, Emily."

"The ducks are clean."

"Not as clean as you need to be."

"I could splash loads, like a washing machine?"

"No."

"Aww!"


	17. Alfred Austin

**#** **Maxim Monday – Alfred Austin – "Show me your garden and I shall tell you what you are"** **| Rating: K | Genre: Romance**

JJ wiped the sweat off her brow. It was a lovely Spring weekend, for once not spoilt by returning from a case.

She looked across her garden, dusting the compost off her hands onto her old jeans. Henry was running across the grass, shrieking gleefully as Morgan chased him. Hotch and Will were lugging a massive bag of soil through the gate.

"We need to place them at _least_ three inches apart…" Spencer lectured to an impatient Emily on the importance of seedling transplanting.

"Yellow would look perfect next to the patio," Garcia was telling her, she had taken control of the colour scheme and placement, much to Rossi's disgust. Apparently, he had better taste.

The man in question was currently pacing the garden, occasionally making a frame with his fingers and muttering to himself.

JJ shook her head with a smile, she'd let him keep his appearance of control. She was really glad that the team had volunteered to help her and Will plant their garden. Neither of the couple had a particularly green thumb but had gotten fed up at how pathetic it had looked. Surely a team of highly intelligent profilers would be up to the task?

"Mublugerk!" spluttered Reid.

The blonde profiler spun round to see her best friend with dirt on his lower face and a suspiciously innocent looking Emily.

Or maybe not.

"We going to get started?" asked Morgan, carrying, a now caught, Henry upside down over to her.

She nodded in agreement, "Take your pick," she said, motioning to the abundance of seedlings and seed packets. Spencer was already flicking through them, eyes darting across the instructions.

"Did you know that flowers have specific meaning attached to them," Reid said, to the groans of Morgan and Rossi, Emily was trying not to look interested. "The Victorians thought highly of them, the asters Will bought are a symbol of love and daintiness" he continued, oblivious to her husband's shy blush.

"They reminded me of you, Cher" he explained quietly, hugging her from behind.

Garcia looked torn between the young plants and seeds before tearing open the packet of marjoram ("Joy and happiness" supplied Reid to her query if it had a meaning).

"This tastes amazing in _anything_ ," Garcia claimed, happily sprinkling the seeds into a pot.

Morgan looked a bit out his depth, more used to building and renovating houses than planting their gardens.

"What should I plant, Baby Girl?" he asked, going over to her upon his decision that he couldn't damage the sends as easily as the seedlings.

Garcia eyed up the sweat soaked Morgan appreciatively. "Oh, definitely thyme, Hot stuff," she said suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Not in front of Henry," JJ automatically admonished the pair as she handed the pot of black eyed susans to Will. They were her favourite flower.

"The crocus bulbs Henry planted last year have come up nicely," Will pointed out, huffing as he dug a hole for a half-grown geranium plant that Rossi had gifted them with.

"I'm impressed," replied JJ, admiring the carpet of yellow and purple they had produced. "Especially since he was very enthusiastic about watering them.

"What can I help with, mama?" Henry asked breathlessly, now right way up.

JJ winced at the thought of the very enthusiastic son handling delicate seedlings.

"I have a very important job for you," she told him, making him puff up his chest in pride. "You can put that aloe vera back in the kitchen where we can all see it."

He nodded rapidly and darted over to the plant JJ had brought outside to repot. It was growing quite rapidly.

"It's one of the plants that has a _useful_ meaning," lectured Reid. "It represents healing, which is true because it can- "

"Sooth burns," interrupted Will, exchanging a look with JJ. They had discovered _that_ by accident when they had run out of soothing ointment late at night and Henry had decided to make s'mores over a candle.

"Also ease itching," added Reid brightly, grass clippings in his hair.

Emily was arguing with Rossi that ivy was a perfectly acceptable plant to put in a garden.

"It speaks of old houses and gloomy scenes," argued Rossi, trying to block her trowel.

"It also holds things together," the dark-haired woman retorted.

"Why do you have to be so freaking _emo,_ Prentiss?" demanded Morgan.

"I was also going to put in the hydrangea!" she protested.

Chuckling under her breath she helped Will plant the red and pink rose bushes he was particularly proud of. He should be, he had spent the last eighteen months tending to them carefully. JJ couldn't wait until they boomed this summer, the scent of them was _divine_.

She heard Spencer inform Henry that all gardens _had_ to have sunflowers in them. She noticed that he was putting them along the fence, next to the hydrangea Emily had victoriously planted, giving the woman in question a shy look. JJ smiled, she suspected that aloe vera wasn't the only plant with a useful meaning to him.

An hour and a half later and they were done. Henry being distracted with the all-important task of watering everything in. Which he had happily agreed to, accidentally giving them all an unwanted shower before he got control of the hose.

"Who wants food?" asked Will, the bribe for helping today.

He got cheers in response as everyone carefully wiped their feet before herding into the kitchen.

Hotch smiled softly at them from next to her, Jack clinging to him.

"What did you two plant?" she asked softly, recognising Jack's winsome look.

"Blue and red salvia," said Hotch, ruffling his son's hair with a sad smile.

JJ was debating whether she wanted to draw Hotch out when she heard a very Spencer-yelp.

"We might need some of that aloe vera!" shouted Rossi.

 **Meanings not mentioned in the text:**

 **Thyme – Courage, strength**

 **Black-eyed Susan – Justice**

 **Crocus – Youthful gladness**

 **Geranium – True friendship**

 **Ivy – Friendship, continuity**

 **Hydrangea – Gratitude for being understood**

 **Pink and Red Roses – Happiness and Love**

 **Sunflower – Adoration**

 **Red and Blue Salvia – "Forever mine" and "I think of you" respectively**


	18. Amorous

**#** **Tonal Tuesday – Amorous – The tone is ardently tender…possibly romantic, or maybe a one-night stand. Are we enamoured tonight, or heading for a cold let down** **| Rating: K+ | Genre: Romance**

Candles were flickering shadows across the walls of Reid's flat. "For the atmosphere" he had informed her. Apparently, that was important for the movie they were watching.

Emily had taken over lighting them when the genius had nearly set himself on fire, _twice_. Confiscating the lighter from him, she deftly finished the task as he went to gather blankets. She agreed with him there, movies were better under blankets.

"Uh," Spencer cleared his throat.

Emily turned around, ready to lay claim to one of the blankets.

Oh.

"I could only find one," he explained sheepishly, holding the blanket in question. It looked invitingly soft. "I'll get my duvet."

She shook her head, "It's not the same," she said, protesting.

"There's nothing different," argued Reid, "I just need something to curl up under."

"That's not how you watch this," Emily complained.

Spencer made an exasperated noise, rolling his eyes.

"Duvets are for hiding under during horror movies," she insisted. "Blankets are for burying into at the fuzzy parts."

"I can't make another blanket just appear! And, fuzzy parts?"

Ignoring his las question, Emily thought for a bit before shaking out the blanket. Aha! Just as she thought!

"This is big enough for us both," she claimed triumphantly.

Reid gave her an unconvinced look. She beckoned him over exasperatedly and pushed him onto his sofa. He yelped indignantly as he fell back. Emily shook her head fondly at him. She dropped herself down next to him.

After a few minutes of getting themselves tangled together, temporarily losing the blanket, Emily accidently elbowing Spencer in the crotch and knocking their bowl of popcorn to the floor they were finally ensconced safely under the blanket.

They had had to sit quite close to each other, the blanket was actually smaller than Emily had judged. Reid had folded his lanky frame quite awkwardly next to her, blushing every time he inadvertently touched her.

Emily herself was feeling quite flushed, probably from the unwanted exercise they had had to do she told herself and not due to how Spencer's breath heated the back of her neck. She was just about to work up the nerve to lean back into him (he wasn't as pokey as his limbs portrayed) when he rummaged around them. Not finding whatever he was looking for, he peered owlishly at the floor.

"What?" she asked more irritably than she meant to.

"I left the remote in the kitchen," he said dolefully.


	19. Mellifluous

**#** **Wordsmith Wednesday – Mellifluous – "(of a sound) Pleasingly smooth and musical to hear"** **| Rating: K+ | Genre: Friendship/Romance(ish)**

"And that means that-"

Emily sighed, head bent over long overdue paperwork. She had tuned out everything in her surroundings, determined to get this done so Hotch stopped breathing down her neck. The chatter of agents sank into the back of her subconscious, only footsteps and the shuffling over paperwork interrupting her train of thought. The littlest things were so _loud_.

She took a deep breath and pushed all noise away, blanking it all.

"-then they used it ritualistically-"

Well, nearly all of it.

"The summer solstice was extremely important, they-"

She never could completely block out a Dr Spencer Reid. It felt wrong if she couldn't hear him. Emily never thought she would get used to the fountain of facts he randomly spouted with enthusiasm but she did. Alarmingly quickly. She blamed his enthusiasm.

She crossed out a sentence in her report.

"-it was all about so called 'ley lines'-"

His voice, it always made her feel safe. Emily wondered if Spencer knew how hypnotic his voice could be outside of a hostage situation. She loved hearing it's rise and falls as he explained some fact or another, wide-eyed and passionate. She saw how unsubs were entranced.

It was like some sort of complicated melody, starting out low and smooth (not like Morgan's which could be sensuous but like pouring honey over bread) and rising sharply with agitation to a climax only to quicken and brighten with knowledge to come back down low to sooth and heal.

Emily shook her head. Spencer's voice, musical? She snorted to herself and continued working. This paperwork must be boring her….

"Did you know that in south east Asia –"

Emily stopped writing again to listen. Without realising it she had closed her eyes to let his voice wash over her. A warm feeling pooled in her belly and wrapped around her heart.

Suddenly it stopped. She opened her eyes to see what had stopped Spencer talking only to see a shadow across her desk. She jumped. A hand steadied her from behind.

"Are you ok?" the very voice she had been immersing herself in asked, slightly high in its concern. She didn't like that being directed at her.

Emily turned around to meet the worried brown eyes of Spencer.

"All good," she replied, pasting a hopefully convincing grin on her face.

Spencer's cocked head said otherwise.

"Reports," she used the excuse.

Spencer looked at her searchingly before nodding, seemingly accepting that he wouldn't get any more out of her.

"Need any help?" he offered, tone hopeful and hand outstretched for one of her files.

"I snuck some in your pile earlier," she admitted.

"I know," he replied with a grin. "I'm still offering."

His voice was smooth and even again, now they had slipped into familiar territory. This was much better.

Emily looked at him, should she really take advantage of him again? She looked at the teetering pile that was her reports and made a decision.

'Thunk.'

Three reports landed in Spencer's hand. Now _that_ was a satisfying sound.

Spencer almost squeaked in excitement. He practically looked gleeful to have them.

"Thank you!" he said from his desk, already flipping through the pages.

Emily shook her head and prevented herself from chuckling.


	20. ORBS

**#** **Typecast Thursday – ORBS – Oh dear, there are orbs. They're golden, gleaming, weeping, flashing…but they're not what you think.** **| Rating: K | Genre: Humour**

Morgan peered at the orbs. "Are they glowing?" he asked incredulously, surely they weren't made to do that.

"Yep," Reid said, looking pleased at the discovery. "Garcia will be pleased."

"Are you _sure_ she wants these?" Morgan reiterated, giving them a wary look.

They were quite _large_ and he wasn't entirely convinced that the wires connecting them would hold their weight.

Reid nodded furiously, hair flopping back and forth.

"She was very specific," he replied, carefully inspecting one of the strands. It wouldn't do to bring back defective one.

Morgan rolled his eyes and tapped his foot impatiently by the door. He had refused to go any further into the shop Reid had discovered. The young genius had almost caused an accident when he had yelp on noticing this shop. Morgan absent-mindedly rubbed his arm where Reid's elbow had collided with it.

It was a ditzy little place, crammed to the brim with shiny things and feathery doo-dahs. It was the type of place that sold beaded curtains and tarot cards with a strong smell of incense permeating the entire place. Garcia would have loved it. Unfortunately, she was five states away back in Quantico.

Reid had spotted the fairy lights in the window as the were driving back to the precinct where the team had set up base. The two of them had been returning from an interview. Morgan had pulled up at his young friends' insistence and took his time as the younger of them darted into its depths. He hadn't been entirely convinced that they were fairy lights in the first place, they were massive globe like things, little sets of fairy lights filing each individual one. Morgan had first thought they were some fantasy staff thing or some light up fish bowls.

Finally, Reid had decided that the set he was peering at were perfect and disappeared into the depths to find someone to ring them up. Good, Morgan's eyes were starting to water. He wiped at them as he effortlessly caught a box of crystals Reid's ne had somehow collided with. Maybe his pretty mama would like some of those too…

He shook his head sharply. Nope. They were not spending any more time in here. He suspected Reid wouldn't let him simply lift a handful of the glittering crystals without informing him of the supposed properties and rhyming off the ones Garcia already had.

He looked critically looked at the now slightly more empty display. They _were_ nice in a slightly over-the-top way. They would really dominate wherever they were placed, which he supposed was the point. Morgan lifted up the closest to him, Reid had done a good job picking the better set, this one was slightly cracked and the other set had exposed wires.

Speak of the devil, or fairy (Morgan snickered at his own bad pun), Reid had returned, shoulder covered in glitter and proudly brandishing a logoed bag.

Reid frowned at Morgan's red nose and watery yes.

"Smell is the weakest scent," he was reminded. "It shouldn't be affecting you so much. Did you remember to breath deeply through your nose?"

Morgan gritted his teeth against the harsh retort on his tongue. The kid had done a nice thing. Instead he gestured towards the door and overtook Reid to open it. They did not need to cause an accident in here. Everything looked far too breakable.

Fresh air filled his nostrils. Morgan breathed deeply.

"Should have done that in the first place," Reid muttered, dodging Morgan's swipe.

At least Garcia would be happy.


	21. Inert

**#** **Fiendish Friday – Inert – Tell the story of an inanimate object, from the object's POV** **| Rating: K | Genre: Family**

She was built quite a time ago, she assumed. Not long for a building, but long for humans. As she grew and settled, she noticed that the humans dressed differently at notable points in her creation and upkeep.

She had been built by those who swung easily from her beams, nothing restraining them and the men always wore hats in the streets.

A young family inhabited her first, their hair large and their clothing bright. Music had filled her walls alongside giggling children and pattering footsteps. The wife and lovingly polished her wood lovingly once a week and the husband had tried to replace her doors with these beaded things. She did not appreciate that. The children grew up there, she was there when they came home after school, thumping their bags on her steep stairs and spilling milk across her floors. She heard their giggles as they experimented with makeup for the first time and their hushes, keeping secrets.

When the children grew up, they left, not returning much. The parents couldn't fill the house. They put her up for sale, piercing the earth by her door with a sign.

Lots of families passed through in the following years, each staying a shorter time than the last. No one seemed to be completely happy with her any more. Stairs too steep, the kitchen had a lot of strange corners, there weren't enough rooms.

Eventually, no one else came. She grew lonely and dust covered her surfaces. People still milled past her, in their hundreds, then their thousands. None seemed to see her.

Years passed without ownership. She thought no one could fill her again.

Then a man came. He was a dark skinned one, she didn't see a lot of those. She hoped that more would follow. Her walls needed to hear childish voices again! None did, the man didn't even stay. He spent a lot of spread out days looking in every room and muttering to himself.

She sighed, floorboards creaking loudly. Maybe her time had finally come.

The men in suits or the large machines never came. Instead the man came back, carrying tools and big sheets of paper. Drilling soon echoed across her walls as she was updated and restored. The man didn't seem to keep to a set schedule, which she found odd. She was used to scheduled and routines.

He worked tirelessly at her, sometimes for hours until the sky grew dark and others, he was stopped with the ringing of the small device that as always in his pocket. Either way he always left with a grin of satisfaction. She looked forward to him coming. That floorboard upstairs no longer creaked and the dust no longer aggravated her (oh, if only she could sneeze). For such a strong man he was tender with her, carefully handling her components. He was thoughtful too, making sure new pars matched existing.

But soon all his tasks were completed. She shone with many new coats of paint and the wood gleamed again with polish. She no longer heard him pushing the key through the door.

She missed him.

Days passed, or maybe weeks. New people had come, holding objects that flashed, reflecting off her now transparent windows, but not him.

She had given up waiting for him when he came back, this time with a woman in a smarty pressed suit and a young couple with a bundle in her arms. They talked on the front porch, figures being passed around and he spoke of all the work he had done.

The young couple were then left alone. They prowled through her rooms, opening cupboards and drawers. The woman laughed in delight at her kitchen, loving the wide counters.

The sky had clouded over when the man and woman came back. The group were soon in serious discussion in the kitchen. Cups of coffee being brewed for the first time (the man had always brought bottles of water with him). More precise figures were exchanged, a lot of shaking heads.

She waited with bated breath

The younger man argued, the smartly dressed woman frowned, and pressed some buttons on a device, showing them a glowing screen.

Maybe it wasn't meant to be?

Finally, everyone smiled. Hands were shook and papers exchange. Promises were made.

Then they all left. But, not for too long. A van soon pulled up in front of her doors, large bury men bringing in new furniture. A child's crib, an easy-chair and a gleaming fridge. It was chaos and she loved every moment. The young woman opened all the windows, airing her of the last vestiges of musty smells. The baby gurgled happily in a high chair.

Finally, the extra men left, leaving furniture in their place. The young couple looked around them in awe and happiness, disbelieving that she was theirs. A rap came from the front door. It was the dark man, he who had made it all possible.

"All settled?" he asked, rubbing the back of his head.

The young couple vehemently thanked him, making his face tinge with red. They invited him for a toast in the new house. Apparently, he had directed them to her, knowing what they had been looking for. She suspected some of the renovations had been done specifically with them in mind.

"Glad to see her finally full again," he said softly, lingering briefly in the doorway as he left, rubbing her frame that he had so lovingly polished. She almost crooned at him.

"Thank you, Mr. Morgan," the young wife said gratefully, embracing him.

"No bother," he replied with a smile. "It's what I do."

Yes, it was.

She never did see him again, but she never forgot him either as her walls filled with laughter again.


	22. Feet

**#** **Snapshot Saturday – Feet – .** **| Rating: T | Genre: Crime**

He stood in the middle of the road, his back converse encased feet planted firmly on the ground. They were everything he wasn't, with his chattering teeth and shaking hands clutching a gun. He blinked rapidly at the scene in front of him.

There were two agents staring him down, a breath-taking black haired one and a terrifying big black dude. He could feel the intense gaze of at east another three on his back. They were FBI agents, they told him so.

He chuckled nervously, shifting his stance slightly. His feet hurt. He had been running all day.

The agents readied their guns at him. Their feet pointing resolutely towards him.

"Williams!" called the black one. "Put down your weapon."

"You're outnumbered, Williams," the black haired one added. "You won't like how this ends."

He frowned at them, puzzled. Did they think he enjoyed this? These racing thoughts, this urge to maim, rip, tear, _kill_? He had to do it didn't they see? It was the only way. Surely people wearing as sensible shoes as they were understood this.

"You heard them, Morris," came a stern voice from behind him.

He shut his eyes tightly. He didn't have to listen to this. He had a job to do. They were in his way!

"Put down the gun!" reiterated the black guy, readying his aim.

No, no, _no_. This isn't how it was supposed to happen. His feet pointed straight at the agent. Maybe he could push past them? He could at least knock down the woman.

"Williams!" he heard yet another agent shout.

He ignored it and charged at the, the worn soles of his shoes loudly smacking against the pavement. He only made it about six steps before he heard a bang and a searing pain in his left shoulder.

He stared at the woman in surprise, shock setting in. She had shot him. He wobbled, his feet failing him as he fell to the ground. The blood was oozing out of his shoulder, staining his shirt.

"Shot," he mumbled as his vision clouded over and ambulance sirens blared. Did they call that for him? No one had ever manged to shoot him.

He felt rather than saw agents surround him before he blacked out. Last thing he saw was a pair of fancy looking dress shoes belonging to the voice that was reciting his Miranda rights.


	23. AHHHH

**#** **Scenic Sunday – AHHHH! – Your character thinks the only thing that could improve this scene is the inevitable heat death of the universe. And soon.** **| Rating: K | Genre: Humour**

JJ groaned and resisted the urge to smack her head off the table she and her team were occupying. She didn't know why and she didn't know how but _somehow_ the team had managed to persuade Will to come to their local pub for a "get-to-know-you" session now that their relationship was out in the open. She wanted to know who had managed to get Will's cell number as she certainly didn't give anyone it. JJ suspected Garcia. But Spencer had light fingers and Emily was just plain devious…

A roar of laughter came from beside her, she had missed something. Morgan was slapping the back of a very bemused looking Will. She would feel sorry for her boyfriend but he did accept their invitation.

"It'll be a good idea, Cherie. They're practically your family," he had said.

Morgan flashed her a cheeky grin. What on earth had he told Will? Even _Spence_ was laughing so hard he was choking on his drink. She blushed at the thought of some of the stories Morgan could twist out of proportion.

"A bat, cherie?" Will whispered to her, slightly amused.

She flushed violently, oh not _that_ story. JJ had sworn Garcia to secrecy on that!

Spencer had started babbling about the science behind magic while fumbling through some of his usual tricks. Will was blinking blankly at the rapid-fire speed of the descriptions, probably only understanding one word in ten like she did.

"See the momentum of the lever makes the –" her best friend said excitedly as Will nodded unsurely.

JJ was just about to elbow him, he really didn't realise how intimidating his intelligence could be, when she noticed a glint in his eye. Ooh. Their genius knew _exactly_ what he was doing this time. Her eyes narrowed.

Will caught her eye and gave her a small smile that reassured her, slightly. Though she had felt like she did when she lost control of the media. Her boyfriend stared beyond her and the smile dropped from his face as he hurriedly looked down at his drink.

Frowning, she turned around only to see Hotch staring at him. Unblinkingly. Not quite the glare he used on suspects, more the one he used on Spencer, organ and Emily when he was trying to get them to own up to blowing something up, again. It was a very uncomfortable look to have directed at you. She heard Will gulp slightly. She ran her fingers over his arm in an effort to reassure him but she was wasn't exactly at ease herself.

"It's good to actually get back from a case," Hotch suddenly said loudly. "Normally we'd be getting briefed on a new one."

Emily was wearing her cat-like smirk, Will squirmed. "Or getting debriefed from working with a particularly crazy unsub," her dark-haired friend added, leaning across the table to Will. "Did JJ tell you about our normal unsubs?"

"Well, yes, I work-" Will stuttered

Only to get interrupted by Hotch, "Yes, normally psychologically disturbed in some way. We really get into their minds…"

"Absolutely bonkers, some of them," Rossi joined in. "We need to match them. Be better than them in fact."

"Isn't JJ your Media Liaison, not a Profiler?" Will asked unsurely.

JJ really wanted to clutch her hair, what on earth were they doing?

Morgan slid around to her other side, wrapping an arm around her and making himself look ever so slightly bigger than Will. She glared at him. He was _not_ going to go into protective big brother mode. No.

Garcia bounced back over from the bar with a tray of brightly coloured drinks they had certainly _not_ ordered.

"Look what I got, my lovelies," she said, brandishing the tray proudly, fuzzy earrings swaying. Garcia put a particularly neon looking one down in front of Will with a flourish.

She wasn't even _trying_ to be subtle about her intentions. Mind you, neither were the rest of them. Profilers her ass.

Emily was leaning even closer to him, not quite getting up in his face. Will tried to edge back a bit, she made him nervous, he had told JJ.

"She just looks like someone who could kill you, hide your body and persuade everyone that you never existed," Will had explained when JJ had called him out on his discomfort when she mentioned Emily.

The woman in question smirked at him while oh-so-casually trailing a pale finger along a cocktail stick. Somehow, she made it look intimidating. Will gulped loudly.

"Did JJ ever tell you about the time she lost her bag and she fell into-" Morgan began telling Will _another_ embarrassing story.

"Then if you use the quotient I explained earlier-" Spencer prattled, absentmindedly shuffling a deck of cards that came out of nowhere.

"Don't you like the drink, Will?" Garcia asked innocently, slurping down her own.

"What's your opinion on good shoes?" Rossi asked seriously.

Will's head was twisting around like he was watching a very complicated tennis match. He tugged at his collar.

"JJ was _furious_ ," continued Morgan, blatantly exaggerating his story.

Spencer was showing Will the fanned-out cards. "See what I did there?" he asked.

Will sent her a helpless look.

"Of course, it's all about turning their minds against them," Emily said, directing a dangerous look towards Will.

'Clunk'

Her head met the table. She groaned loudly.

Morgan patted her back and was now giving Will a very detailed outline of his workout routine.

This night had to end soon. Seriously, she couldn't take it anymore, and she didn't think Will could either. Even a case! Or something exploding. Was it too much to asked for criminals to do their job for once?


	24. William Wordsworth

**#** **Maxim Monday – William Wordsworth – "What thought the radiance that was once so bright, be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind."** **| Rating: K+ | Genre: Tragedy/Family**

It was a beautiful day, Hotch was glad he got a chance to enjoy it. When he took a deep breath, he could smell the wildflowers and Haley's delicate perfume curling around him, beckoning him closer. The sun beat down overhead, sometimes hiding behind some impossibly white, fluffy clouds. Bees were humming nearby, the only noise in this silent meadow. Today he was Aaron, not Hotch, a husband and father, not boss and colleague. It was invigorating. He hadn't done this in far too long.

His wife grinned at him, eyes twinkling.

He leaned into her, lips pursed, only to scramble away while making strangled noises. His young son, Jack ran to his mother, giggling. Hotch frantically untucked his shirt and pulled wild grasses that had been unceremoniously dumped there.

His eyes narrowed playfully at his chuckling family.

"Got you, daddy!" Jack crowed, hugging his mother, who was struggling not to laugh.

"You put him up to this," accused Hotch, grabbing Jack and tickling him.

Haley put on an affronted look, "I'm innocent," she claimed

"Yeah, right," he muttered in her ear, making her shiver.

"Innocent until proven guilty _Agent Hotchner_."

They exchanged smouldering looks, only to be interrupted by Jack tugging at the collar of Hotch's polo shirts.

"Can we have sammiches now?" he asked.

"You hungry?" Hotch asked, tearing his eyes away from his wife reluctantly.

"Uh huh," Jack replied, forcibly nodded his head, blonde hair flying. "Tummy's growling."

"It is?" he asked in mock amazement, poking the organ in question making Jack giggle.

"Like a monster."

"Better feed it then or it might eat us," Hotch informed him seriously.

"Silly daddy," said Jack, plopping himself on the checkered rug he and Haley were stretched out on.

Haley smiled at the antics of her two most favourite people in the world as she started pulling food from a very stereotypical picnic basket. She passed Hotch a root beer, his guilty pleasure, and Jack a highly coveted bottle of lemonade.

"To family," Hotch said simply, chinking bottles with them.

"Family!" agreed Jack excitedly

Haley gave Hotch the kiss he had been waiting for, both of them smiling.

Three weeks later Haley would leave, bringing their son.

They never had a day like that again, unable to reconcile before her death.

He still had the bunch of wildflowers that Jack had picked for Haley, dried under the expert instructions of Garcia.

It no longer hurt to look at them, the simple bundle only holding joy and simple summer days, reminding him that that was something he was trying to defend.


	25. Michievious

**#** **Tonal Tuesday – Mischievous – The tone is impish! A plot is afoot! Are we malicious or naughty or just perilously playful?** **| Rating: K+ | Genre: Humour**

"This is a really bad idea, guys"

"Shut up, Reid."

"It's _perfect_. They won't know what's hit them. Especially since _I'm_ planning it."

Morgan gave Prentiss an incredulous look.

" _Excuse_ me? Who put you in charge?" he demanded.

Prentiss flicked him behind the ear. "I did."

"I'm the one with more experience, here."

"No. You have the most experience with being caught."

"I'll have you know-"

Reid was looking increasingly agitated; his hands were twisting around each other. "Did anyone hear me say this was a _very bad idea?_ "

"Hush, pretty boy," said Morgan, having been separated from Prentiss by JJ. "We're all doing this."

"I don't recall _agreeing_ to this."

There was an instant outcry at this from everyone, even JJ who had been rolling her eyes at them all.

"We need your brain!"

"It'll be fun!"

"Don't you want to see their faces?"

"Please?" Deep brown eyes flashed at him.

Curse Prentiss' ability for emotional manipulation. And curse his inability to deny this team-family anything. Reid slumped his shoulders in acceptance.

"Yes!" Morgan voiced their pleasure, pumping his fist.

"Shh!"

Reid took a deep breath. He could do this. This _would_ be funny. And Hotch really needed to smile more…

"Ok, first, none of you are aiming anywhere near high enough. Do you realise how easy it is to booby trap their offices?" he began.

Everyone blinked, looked at each other and then turned to grin at their resident genius.

* * *

Rossi tore his gaze from his huddled together teammates.

"They're plotting something," he announced to the other occupant of the office.

"Hmm mmm," replied Hotch, not looking up from his papers.

"They've gotten Reid involved," he added, as if that made it worse. Which, admittedly, it did.

Still no acceptable response from Hotch. Wasn't this cause for worry?

"Are you going to do anything about it?" Rossi demanded.

Hotch picked up a different page and frown at it.

"Well?"


	26. Somnambulism

**#** **Wordsmith Wednesday – Somnambulism – "Walking in one's sleep or under hypnosis"** **| Rating: T | Genre: Humour**

Creeeeeak went the floorboards in the cheap-ass hotel they had to stay at for this case.

Yes, Derek Morgan was grumpy. The room was freezing, the walls were far too thin (whoever was passionately declaring their love at four am to the left of the really had to go to bed!) and the room smelled weird. His back hurt because of the sack of rocks that were the mattresses of this place and he could still hear the panicked screams of their unsubs latest victim they had just about rescued echoing in his head.

Creeeeeak.

Morgan groaned and opened his eyes. What on earth was JJ doing at this time of the night? He saw her silhouette at the foot of his bed.

"JJ" he hissed.

She didn't answer. Frowning, Morgan sat up. Something was off.

"JJ?" he tried again.

Still no response.

Feeling a bit concerned, Morgan reached across and flicked the light switch. Yellow light flickered briefly before steadying, bathing the room in a street light-like glow.

JJ was staring at him.

Swearing, Morgan jumped back, smacking his head off the headboard. Rubbing the afflicted region, he noticed that that had garnered no reaction from their media liaison. He frowned. Crawling to the end of the bed he waved his hand in front of her face. She blinked at him and went to one of the plastic chairs in the room.

Not knowing what to do, except not wake her, Morgan watched. She rearranged the chairs for several minutes, picked up the TV remote and made gestures at it as if she was reporting to the media. Just as suddenly as she had begun, she dropped the remote, made as if she was handing him papers and fell onto her bed.

Morgan didn't do anything for several moments until he heard the sound of deep breathing. She had gone to sleep. He stood up and looked over at her. She looked ok, her hair was splayed across the bed and she didn't look like she was in any distress. Morgan tugged her duvet from under her, she rolled over with a grunt, and draped it carefully over her lithe form.

He stared at her for a few more minutes to ensure she wasn't going anywhere and then chuckled softly. Even in her sleep she was on the ball.

Settling himself in a semi-comfortable position on his own bed, he smiled.

At least he had plenty of teasing ammo for the next few days.


	27. Big Lipped Alligator Moment

**#** **Typecast Thursday – Big Lipped Alligator Moment – It's a dark and stormy night, and this narrative is about to get wacky.** **| Rating: K+ | Genre: Humour**

Why did the strange things always happen to his team? Anderson never reported anything weird happening when his team were stuck somewhere. Hotch sighed in frustration. No use grumbling about it, there was literally nothing he could do to fix the situation.

They were in a cabin. It was always a cabin. And there had been a freak storm in the area that Garcia had barely been able to warn them about. Thankfully she had managed to direct them to this cabin that was not in use as it was decidedly off season for a ski strip in the mountains. Of course, the manager was nowhere in sight, probably not even on any of his properties.

Hotch just hoped they didn't get charged with breaking and entering. He strongly suspected that even JJ couldn't talk her way out of that media storm.

All they could do was wait the storm out tonight. Hotch looked around the cabin they had taken refuge in. At least they would be in comfort. There was a living area with the standard oven, fridge and sink. Also, three rooms he suspected were bedrooms and a bathroom that Emily had dived into upon arrival. She had been complaining all the way up here how desperate she was.

"Emily! Let me in!" bellowed Derek, thumping on the door to the bathroom. "You've been in there twenty minutes!"

"Actually, it's been five minutes and twenty-three seconds," pointed on Reid from the kitchen, where he had been rummaging for coffee.

Derek gave his colleague a dark look and thumped on the door again. Hotch just realised that he didn't see Emily leave her gun…

"It doesn't take anyone that long to empty their bladder," said Derek.

"Research has shown that it takes all animals no longer than thirty seconds to empty their bladders," Reid stated.

Everyone gave him a look. JJ rolled her eyes. Emily finally left the bathroom, shoving Morgan out of the way. He tried to trip her and as they scuffled like naughty children, JJ slipped into the bathroom. The lock shut with a soft 'snick'.

"What the?" asked Derek, looking across the room. Emily took advantage of his distraction to floor him. "Oof! JJ!"

Cackling came from the bathroom. Hotch sighed heavily and looked outside, it was now dusk. Only about twelve hours to go before they could leave. If the winds didn't change.

Dave stood up from the cupboards he had promptly delved into brandishing a dusty bottle.

"Found some alcohol!" he crowed to the cheers of Emily. He blew off the dust and his face fell. "Dammit, it's the cheap stuff."

Hotch sighed in relief. Rossi wouldn't sink to drinking crappy wine.

"More for me," said Emily with a dangerous grin, snatching the bottle from his hands and began inspecting the lid.

"I don't think drinking alcohol is a good idea," said Reid. "Alcohol consumption leads to reduced sense of reasoning and increased need to relieve one's bladder. We don't even know if the water has been switched off."

Morgan strode across the room o the sink and turned it on full blast. Water shot out a soaked Reid. He was directing the spray with his thumb over the tap. Reid shrieked at a pitch Hotch didn't know he was capable of.

"C-c-cold!" stuttered their genius, darting at Morgan.

JJ left the bathroom in the midst of all this chaos. She grabbed Reid, pulling him out of the path of the spray and glared at Morgan. He took his thumb off the tap and ran for the bathroom.

"What are we going to do then?" she asked sensibly.

Hotch shrugged. "Sleep. Then actually go to the crime scene tomorrow."

"If there even is still a crime scene after this," Emily said glumly, echoing their thoughts. This storm would really set their whole investigation back.

Dave clapped his hands. "May as well get comfortable," he said.

"Looks like we're sharing," added JJ, opening the doors to all the bedrooms.

That was nothing new for them at least.

A few minutes of separating Emily and Morgan, who were squabbling over who roomed with JJ, Hotch sent both older profilers to a room together and paired JJ and Spencer. He sat into a conveniently placed armchair, pinching the bridge of his nose. Dave chuckled at him.

"It's like herding cats."

"I always think of them as toddlers," quipped Dave with a smile.

Hotch gave him a look.

"Jack is better behaved than they are."

There was a muffled curse from Morgan and Emily's room. Hotch mentally counted to ten. Could they just go five minutes without attempting to kill each other?

A sniggering Morgan and disgruntled Emily strode into the room.

"We're not doubling up," Emily said with a sense of finality.

Hotch opened his mouth to make a rebuttal, planning to pull rank to keep everything sane, when JJ and Reid also returned.

"The beds are falling apart." JJ announced, Reid nodding rapidly beside her.

"It cracked under the weight of our go bags" Spencer added.

"Of course, Spence had a _textbook_ in his."

"It's not a text book! It's a research paper!"

Hotch held up a hand to stop everyone so he could think. Thankfully, they obeyed the unspoken command. He closed his eyes. What on earth should they do now?

"Camp in the main room!" said Emily gleefully.

"What?" asked Dave, disbelievingly.

Hotch actually gave the idea some thought.

"It could work," he said slowly. "If we brought the mattresses and blankets in here. It wouldn't be uncomfortable…"

"You have got to be kidding me," uttered Dave, obviously not relishing the thought. The man did like his private time.

Ignoring him, Hotch asked the others, "Anything wrong with those items?"

Everyone shook their heads. Well, except Reid. Hotch looked at him.

"They're musty," their youngest teammate replied pedantically, not looking too bothered by it.

Thank God his germaphobia hadn't kicked in at them. Everyone else rolled their eyes at him and wordlessly gathered their supplies, arranging them on the floor. Even Dave did it, grumbling.

Soon they had made makeshift beds to the best of their abilities and had settled down. It had all been quite painless in the end. Hoch turned off the main light, leaving a side lamp on for Reid and got into his own bed next to Dave. Blessed silence overtook them for ten minutes until…

"I'm bored," whined Prentiss

Hotch tried not to groan.

"Shut _up,_ Prentiss," Morgan growled from next to her, trying to smother her with a pillow which she promptly claimed as her own.

"But I'm booooored," she replied, drawing out the vowels. She reached over and poked Reid. "Entertain me, genius boy."

"Why me?" he asked petulantly. He had just gotten comfy!

"You're the one with all this knowledge. Some of it must be amusing," she said matter-of-factly.

He huffed at her. She poked him. Reid was about to retaliate when two things happened, JJ grabbed his hand and Emily gave him a look that said I-am-completely-unafraid-to-escalate-this-to-actual-bodily-harm. He believed that look. Thinking for a bit, Reid rejected several "entertaining" ideas. He suspected Emily would not consider the paper on Fungi he had been recently reading (and amending) as fascinating as he did and the last time they tried to do a crossword together _did_ actually end in bodily harm.

"How bout some physics magic?" he asked, whipping out a canister and a bottle.

"Where on earth do you keep those?" Rossi asked suspiciously as Morgan spluttered in shock.

"I said no 'physics magic'," added Hotch.

"We're not in the office!" Reid protested.

"No."

Reid huffed again.

"What about a story?" suggested JJ tiredly, rubbing at her eyes.

Emily's eyes brightened, "Yes! A story!"

"What do you want to hear?" Reid asked eagerly, this he could do. He had memorised thousands…

"Nuh uh," Morgan immediately shut him down. "You don't tell stories effectively, kid."

"He's right," Rossi backed up his colleague. "Your tempo is always off."

Everyone looked at him. Rossi looked put out.

"I _am_ a world-famous author," he said pointedly.

They rolled their eyes as one.

"Oh, I know!" Emily said excitedly, elbowing Morgan accidentally as she wiggled. "Why don't we each say a sentence to a story and together we'll make up a way cooler one than any of the ones Reid knows!"

"I don't think-" Reid started.

"Like you'd do on sleepovers?" asked JJ, now interested.

Emily nodded. JJ shrugged her shoulders.

"I'm in," she said, propping herself up on her elbows.

The three older male agents just looked at each other unsurely. Maybe they'd wait to see how this played out…

"Great, that's at least three of us," Emily said clapping her hands. "I'll start."

"I never agreed to this," Reid pointed out.

Ignoring him, Emily began. Using her phone to illuminate her face she lowered her voice, "It was a dark and stormy night-"

"Could you be any more cliché?" Rossi grumped

"-it was dark-"

"You already _said_ that," Reid said.

"Shut up, _I'm_ starting this!"

"Not very well," Morgan muttered.

Emily started again, speaking pointedly louder, "It was a dark and stormy night. Crows cawed and bats flew overhead."

She looked expectantly at JJ and Reid.

"There was a lone figure stumbling up the hill," added JJ, deciding to get properly into it.

Reid frowned, not saying anything. JJ elbowed him.

"You're turn," she said helpfully.

"I don't know the scene," complained Reid.

"That's the point," Emily replied. "Now make something up. I thought you _liked_ spooky stuff."

Reid brightened up.

"She approached a house designed in late Gothic style architecture with towering columns that were imitating baroque-"

"Reid!" everyone complained.

"What?" he asked confused. "It was my turn!"

"You're meant to further the story," JJ explained patiently.

"I was setting the scene!"

"We don't even know what those words _mean,_ " Morgan complained.

"It's not _my_ fault you don't educate yourself on classical architectural designs," Reid sniffed.

JJ rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache coming on. Where was that wine?

"Just take your turn, Emily," she said.

"I wasn't finished!"

"Yes, you were," said Morgan.

"You're not even playing," Reid pouted.

"Emily!" grunted Hotch authoritatively.

"The girl, it was a girl stumbling, was moaning and her eyes were crazed. The black lace of her black velvet dress hung limp around her-"

Morgan groaned in exasperation, "Oh, no more of your emo crap, Prentiss!"

"It's more goth," Reid defended absentmindedly, still sulking over his interruption. "Emo tends to veer towards more disturbed while the gothic sub-culture-Oomph."

Morgan had thrown a pillow at him.

"Don't care," he was informed by his friend. "I giving this story a mix up."

Emily glared at him. Morgan ignored her.

"The girl was emo as hell and was on a quest to lure a spiteful witch from the really old fancy house. The witch had cut off all internet and was fogging up the place something chronic."

"Because this is sooooo much better than mine," Emily interrupted.

"It's Georgian architecture, get it right," Reid whined.

"Shut up!" Rossi shouted, they all quietened in shock. He smiled in satisfaction and sat up. "That's better. You guys have no idea how to put a story together."

"And you do?" Emily asked snippily.

"Best selling author," he smugly reminded them, pointing to himself.

"Of _crime_ novels," said JJ, giving him a look.

"Still qualifies me more than you," Rossi said.

"Then _you_ try," said Morgan, folding his arms.

"A stunning woman fell from the sky wearing a dress with a plunging neckline brandished a bottle of fine whiskey. 'You will need this to fortify you for your task ahead!' she told the emo chick, forcing the bottle into her hands."

"What the _hell_!" Emily and Morgan said together in disgust.

"It's meant to be a spooky story, not your wished-for porno," Morgan said indignantly.

"You need to build up to the story," Rossi explained impatiently.

"No one has set the scene properly," Reid whined.

"It was meant to be my turn," said JJ, thinking she could get this story moving.

"Not until Rossi redoes his!" said Morgan.

"What? No! That was his turn!" protested Reid.

"Silence!" roared Hotch, left eyebrow twitching. That was never a good sign. "Get back into bed," he told everyone but JJ sharply.

They had all stood or sat up to argue their points. The four of the guiltily scrambled under their covers, Morgan and Emily only slightly fighting over who's leg went there.

"Good," Hotch said thankfully. "Now, _go to bed_."

"What about the story?" Reid asked, cringing slightly.

Everyone groaned, except Emily who looked at her boss expectedly.

"The girl marched into the house (her bravery coming from the bottle), more bats flying out, grabbed the witch by the scruff of her neck and sent her tumbling down the hill. Immediately the fog lifted, internet connection was restored and she looked triumphantly over the village out of a spectacular Georgian window. The End. Now _sleep_."

There was silence for a few beats.

"No romance?" asked JJ mischieviously.

 **AN: Okay, this one got away from me. I was just having too much fun with them.**


	28. Simple, right?

**#** **Fiendish Friday – Simple, right? – Describe love. Simple, right? Now do it in twenty words or less** **| Rating: K | Genre: Family**

For Aaron love was warm laughter and swinging blonde hair.

Rossi would inform you that love meant forgiveness and trust and that sensual feeling of good wine and company.

Love was love to Penelope Garcia, it was that feeling that filled her entire being and exploded to those who she kept guarded in her heart.

Morgan, if he was feeling soft, would say that love was what ever made your heart feel full and warm

Love, Emily didn't give much thought to. It was dangerous and too dependent on other people.

When JJ thought of love, she thought of Will's awful singing and the heavy thud of Henry's hugs.

Spencer knew love was serotonin and other chemicals, scientifically. That's what he would tell anyone who asked. In his heart thought it to be that feeling of total acceptance that warmed his entire being.


	29. Idyllic

**#** **Snapshot Saturday – Idyllic – .** **| Rating: K+ | Genre: Crime**

Emily huffed quietly as they climbed the small grass covered mountain. She hoped none of the local PD heard her. They already thought they were far superior to some "soft handed paper-pushers", she did _not_ want them to think they were out of shape. Which she wasn't by the way. It was icy cod with a wind whistling through the hills which cut right through you.

"There better be so much evidence here," she muttered to a snickering JJ.

Hotch had seen the dark looks she was sending at the ignoramuses they had to work with and thought it was in good judgement to use JJ as a buffer.

It seemed to be working, even if Emily suspected they thought her friend was some sort of barbie.

The two officers that were accompanying them had thankfully strode ahead when they realised that Emily was not going to engage them in conversation. It would stop her maiming them before they got off the hills. She hoped Hotch appreciated her self-control.

"Nearly there," called back the large one.

"If you can keep up," she heard muttered from the other, a sycophant if she ever saw one.

Narrowing her eyes, Emily picked up her pace, JJ matching her stride for stride, and managed to terrify the large one as she loomed behind them. She took an unprofessional degree of satisfaction from that.

JJ glanced around as Emily contemplated how she could make that purple vein of his jump more.

"It's so beautiful up here," JJ said longingly, looking across the expanse of green. They had only seen rocks as they went further up.

Emily agreed with her as she turned around. It was always beautiful places that were marred by an unsub's behaviour, spoiling the view. They had arrived at the apparently only piece of flat land on the mountain. The emerald green grasses contrasted nicely with the pale blue sky, seeming to roll on endlessly into the stone. The mountain rose up, proudly reaching into the sky. Nestled between was a worn, blue cabin. Not dilapidated, like in so many of their cases, but well loved. The paint had been faded by decades on these hills, wind licking around it.

If she looked close enough, Emily could see layers of slightly differing blue across the somewhat warped planks. Moss grew on the roof, begging to be scraped off.

"That was his." the large guy interrupted their thoughts, pointing at that very cabin, "here's wall of photos and the missing farm machinery in there."

Resisting the urge to glare at him, Emily nodded and slipped a more professional mask on. They could never afford to drink in their surroundings like she longed to do up here.

She strode resolutely forward, JJ on her heels. Time to bring some closure to grieving families


	30. Ah

**#** **Scenic Sunday – Ah – Ah, it's an end, the scene of a terrible end, but maybe also the scene of a beginning** **| Rating: K | Genre: Family**

Hotch took a deep breath. He had headed the most successful and most trying team of the BAU. He had faced down the most hardened of criminals. He could _do_ this.

"All set, dad," announced Jack with a grin he must have picked up from Morgan, setting a third suitcase by their door.

He choked back a sob.

No, he couldn't.

Jack didn't hear him, thankfully. He was too busy checking the extremely detailed list Reid had provided them with. Hotch wiped his hands over his face, hopefully removing any tears.

It had taken enough arguments for Jack to go to the college of his dreams, six states away. His son had been unwilling to "leave him alone" as it "had always been you and me dad, what will do when I've left?"

"Get a hobby," he had joked at the time.

But what would he do now? His main goal in life was complete. His son was going to _college_. He was happy, really happy. And proud, gosh he was proud.

"Your mom would be so proud of you," he said thickly, smiling at Jack.

Jack smiled at him, having heard that phase a lot over the past few weeks. Most other boys would tell Hotch to stop, embarrassed or sad at the thought of a mother no longer there being proud. Not Jack, he knew without profiling. He was always so hungry for knowledge on Haley, having so few memories.

"I'll email every day," Jack promised.

That made Hotch chuckle. As if a freshman college student had time to email his father every day, especially one with a good lot of college credit already under his belt.

"Once a week will be fine," said Hotch.

Jack hugged him tight, burying his head into his shoulder, he now had to bend to do that.

"Is the entire team going to send me off at the airport?" Jack asked curiously, smiling at his makeshift "family" of unrelated aunts and uncles.

"You couldn't keep them away," chuckled Hotch.

"Especially Aunt Pen," said Jack

Hotch nodded at that. They stood in silence for a few moments, looking at all the pictures on the walls. All the memories they had made together.

"Let's get you to college," Hotch said finally, grabbing his keys.

"Can't I drive?" Jack pleaded.

"I've driven you to your every first in your life," Hotch retorted. "Let me do it one more time."


End file.
